


quiet when i'm coming home

by eddiespaghetti (foxwatson)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Hugs, M/M, SO, and, because in the end this is all about richie and eddie hugging for 1k words again, but also there's like a happy middle?, i'm dedicated to that tag, it just gets sad cause they're dumb klajdmsf, it's sort of, morons to lovers, that's what we're all here for, which is STILL GONNA BE A THING
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24529231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxwatson/pseuds/eddiespaghetti
Summary: The thing about seeing all his friends for the first time in 20 years and then running for his life and nearly dying and getting all his repressed memories back is that Eddie feels like he could really use a fucking hug.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 32
Kudos: 380





	quiet when i'm coming home

**Author's Note:**

> title credit to billie eilish's when the party's over, although i was listening to the lewis capaldi cover when i wrote this.
> 
> THIS ONE'S FOR YOU AJ!!!!!! sorry it got weird and sad in the middle i know it's not exactly what you asked for but lkasdf hope it still suits your needs.

The thing about seeing all his friends for the first time in 20 years and then running for his life and nearly dying and getting all his repressed memories back is that Eddie feels like he could really use a fucking hug.

He can’t even remember the last time he got one, is the sad part. Theoretically it was probably Myra, but he can’t remember the last time they touched each other intentionally for more than a couple of seconds, so even if it was her anytime in the last five years or so, it probably wasn’t satisfying.

That’s probably the best explanation for why he just keeps getting to the point where he almost asks someone for a hug - but he doesn’t even know how. If he did ask, he’s sure someone like Ben or Bev would probably give him one, but no one’s offering, and just to ask outright seems pathetic, so instead - instead he just feels like he’s sort of wandering around, watching a little too closely while any of them touch each other, and he’s just sort. Standing around on his own.

To be fair, Stan is, too, but he’s got a wife he clearly actually loves, and who he gets to go home to. He’s probably got a guaranteed hug just waiting at home.

They all stand around in the quarry for a while after everything is done, washing off. Ben and Bev duck under the water, Bill and Mike are chatting while they wash off. Richie’s scrubbing at the crack in his glasses like that’s going to fix it somehow.

After a solid minute of that, tired of watching, Eddie wades over and snatches Richie’s glasses from him.

“Here, just - give those to me, dumbass. I’ll get the rest of the blood out but then that’s all we can do, you’ll just have to get them fixed. Which, you know, Keane’s might be able to do that but if not there’s probably plenty of eyeglasses repair people in - Chicago?” Eddie dips the frames back in the water while he talks, then holds them up and examines them.

He turns and holds the glasses up to see Richie through the lenses, all magnified and refracted.

Richie blinks at him. “Uh, yeah. Chicago. Thanks, Eds.”

“No problem.” He wets the glasses again, then uses one clean part of his shirt to scrub at the place where the gross quarry water has just gotten them dirtier. Eddie’s trying not to think about that - especially not in the context of the fucking healing wound on his cheek. “It’s the least I could do, after, you know, you literally saved my life.”

“Well I couldn’t have done it without Stan, either.”

“That’s true,” Eddie tells him, still scrubbing. He looks over at Stan again, who’s tapping at his watch, trying to get it to work again. “I probably owe both of you drinks or - more than drinks. I don’t know. Just name something, I guess, and I’ll do what I can for either of you. Or you’ve got - license to sleep on my floor whenever or-” Eddie chokes on his words then, and nearly drops Richie’s glasses. Oh God. “I mean not - well I don’t really know where - but sometime, theoretically, you could stay at - a place where I live, I don’t-”

Richie reaches out, and hesitantly places his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. His palm covers the entire curve of Eddie’s shoulder - his thumb edges above Eddie’s collar, lands on the bare skin right by his collarbone. Eddie wants, desperately, to turn and press his face against Richie’s chest, to let himself be comforted, but instead he winces away - like a fucking coward.

“Sorry, sorry, I just - uh. My home situation is - potentially in flux I just - I think I just realized I actually have to think about that now that I lived.”

“Right, yeah,” Richie says, clearly feigning calm.

Eddie looks down at Richie’s glasses in his hands and notices some of the little shards of glass around the crack have started to fall out. “Shit,” he says quietly. He loosens his grip and passes the glasses back to Richie. “Be careful with those, please, they’re - it’s just getting worse so you should go to Keane’s, probably soon. And don’t sleep in them. I mean on accident I don’t think you would on purpose just - be careful.”

“Yeah,” Richie says again, sliding his glasses back on his face. He blinks again, and this time, his eyes actually focus properly on Eddie’s face. “Hey, uh. If you do - need a place to stay or anything, my floor’s wide open. I actually - I might have an air mattress or something, although it’s probably from like the 90s - you could always just sleep on the couch, too or - I mean really I fall asleep on the couch sometimes so you could take the bed, just. Whatever. You know.”

Starting to speak before he can even find the words, Eddie makes a strange, lost little sound before he closes his mouth again and clears his throat. “The couch is probably terrible on your back. You’re too tall for even, like, a normal bed, Rich. The couch cannot accommodate appropriate support.”

That, somehow, makes Richie snort and crack a smile. It’s the first time he’s smiled, really smiled, since the Jade, even if he’s tried a couple of times since then, it hasn’t looked like this. He didn’t get those little crinkles around his eyes, didn’t make his one slightly squintier eye stand out like his real smile does. It’s nice. This one’s nice.

“Right. I’ll keep that in mind, Eds.”

Eddie nods at that, and he tries to think of something else to say, maybe something about going to stay with Richie, or how he’ll take the air mattress, or how he could never possibly accept Richie doing something else on top of having saved his fucking life, when Bill of course interrupts.

“Hey, let’s - let’s all h-h-head back to the Town House, yeah? We should get some r-rest.”

Mike throws an arm around Bill, and Ben and Bev start walking, ducking their heads close together, and Stan is actually out in front, leading all of them back up towards the cliffs, out and away towards Derry proper and the Town House and their beds.

Eddie turns to Richie, but Richie just shrugs, and follows, so Eddie doesn’t say anything - he follows, too.

They all hike back up out of the quarry together, and everybody else seems to be in a relatively good mood. Stan’s obviously worried because he doesn’t have his phone and he can’t call his wife, but Bill and Mike and Ben and Bev are clearly all in a celebratory mood.

Which, that makes sense. There’s a lot to celebrate. It’s dead, and they’re all alive, and nobody got really seriously hurt, and now they all have their memories back, and each other.

It’s just that Eddie can’t stop thinking ahead - to what all of this means for the next week of his life, and the week after that. Will they all stay friends this time? What if they can’t? Adult life is complicated, none of them live anywhere near each other. What if Eddie goes home and he just pretends everything is the same? Could he do that? Does he want to try?

He doesn’t realize he’s completely out of it until he stumbles into Richie’s back and then stumbles back again, apologizing as he does.

“Shit, sorry, Rich, I-”

“Hey, uh, hey guys!” Richie reaches out and steadies Eddie a little, just briefly, and then waves to all the other losers. “Hey, I think Eds and I are gonna hit the pharmacy real quick, see if they can do anything about my glasses or at least - go ahead and ask before we go back to hit the hay. So we’ll just see you over there, yeah?”

Everyone sort of nods and waves and shrugs, and then Richie turns to look at Eddie properly.

“Uh - you don’t have to come unless you just want to. I just - you don’t seem tired. And you’re right that these things seem like a real fucking safety hazard right now.”

“Now he listens,” Eddie mutters, pretending to be annoyed - but really, he’s relieved to have the distraction.

“Yes, yep, this is the one and only time I’m ever going to listen to you. Make it count.”

“You’re such a fucking dick, you are exactly the same-”

“I don’t know, I mean I’m a little taller-”

“I swear to God, asshole, try it, say some shit right not about how I’m not, try it right now-”

Richie doesn’t, though, because he breaks out into giggles instead, nearly doubling over there where they’re shuffling along the sidewalk together. “Oh, man, the look on your face-”

“You are such an asshole. I don’t know why I - why we’re friends, why I’d ever stay with you in Chicago-”

That makes Richie stand back up, and he sobers up a little, his expression turning into this delicate, hopeful little smile. Eddie’s never seen anything like it - it feels a little like getting punched in the stomach.

“You really wanna come stay with me?” Richie asks.

Eddie, before that moment, really hadn’t decided - but he can’t say no to that. He just doesn’t have that kind of willpower. “Yeah. Yeah, I - I mean I have to do a bunch of other terrible shit in between like - divorce shit-”

“Oh, God, right, you’re married-”

“Please don’t remind me,” Eddie says, and he’s trying to make a joke, but it comes out sort of twisted and desperate and genuine. “I - I don’t think this is a conversation I’m awake enough to have right now when neither of us have slept in like 48 hours, but believe me when I say I should not be married, and let’s just leave it at that for now.”

Richie nods, a little too vigorously, and they both keep walking towards the pharmacy - which is now, actually, visible in the distance. “Yeah, I - I mean, okay, mostly, except - is that why you got so pissed off at the Jade? When I asked about it?”

Slowly, Eddie exhales. He just pushes all the air out of his lungs before he speaks, trying to use it to gather himself. “Maybe. Probably. Yes. I just - when I left she wasn’t very happy, we fought, and I said some - things. I don’t know if any of it will stick without repetition, so I’ll have to talk to her again and actually get a lawyer, but as soon as I - remembered I sort of realized it wasn’t a very good situation. I really would rather not talk about it.”

“No, yeah, that’s - that’s fine. That’s fine, Eds. I don’t mean to pry. You’re all good.” Richie shoves his hands further in his pockets and scuffs his feet along the pavement. “Sorry. I’m just glad you’re getting out. If it’s not good for you.”

“It’s not. Thank you.” They make it to the door of the pharmacy, and Eddie pauses, right outside. “And thank you, too for - offering your place. If you didn’t, I’d - I’d probably just go home and end up stuck there so - thank you.”

Before Richie can say anything else, though, Eddie opens the door, and they make their way inside and up to the counter.

While Richie talks to Mr. Keane, Eddie picks up some antiseptic and bandages for his cheek, along with a first aid kit, sort of hoping it contains something good for at home stitches and Eddie can talk Bev or someone into helping him, because he has no desire to set foot in the Derry Memorial Hospital if he can help it.

He actually does have his wallet on him, because in a morbid turn of thought, he’d known that his ID was pretty waterproof, and that if worse came to worst, someone could identify his body from that.

The wallet is ruined, and his cash is still damp, but once Richie’s done talking, Eddie’s able to pay for his supplies with a card.

It takes until they get outside for Eddie to notice that Richie doesn’t have his glasses on, and he’s sort of attempting to stumble down the stairs before Eddie goes back and steadies him, helps him down.

“Jesus, Rich, you know you could just ask for help-”

“I mean I’m not blind without them-”

“No just nearly blind. There’s no way your vision’s gotten better since we were kids, and just because lenses got thinner doesn’t mean I don’t remember how thick those fucking coke bottles were that you wore.”

“I could have gotten Lasik. For all you know the glasses are just a fashion statement now.”

“They’re not, though. Dumbass.”

Richie shrugs. Eddie’s still holding onto his arm, just above his elbow, and Richie doesn’t try to shake him off. “Nah. The glasses were kind of part of the whole - nerd image or whatever, so we kept them. Plus Lasik is fucking expensive, seemed like a waste of money.”

“Right. Well since you do actually need glasses and you don’t have them while they’re being repaired, I’m just gonna - stay close, until we’re back at the Town House, and you’re in your room.”

Humming, Richie pats Eddie’s hand absently, and Eddie just keeps it there, keeps his steady grip on Richie’s arm, carefully steering them around bumps and dips in the cracked sidewalk of Derry’s Main Street.

“So this doesn’t bother you though?”

Eddie turns and looks at Richie. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean - well, sorry, when I get really fucking tired it’s like - I mean on a good day I don’t have a filter, right, so this is like, turn it up to 11, I’m basically drunk right now. But just when I touched you, earlier, you were sort of - jumpy, I just didn’t know if it was like, a thing, you know, that you don’t really like to be touched-”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Eddie says. Which. That part’s true. That’s easy. But he can’t just say  _ It’s that I want it too much _ in normal, common conversation when Richie can’t even see him, while Richie is depending on him and can’t walk away. Instead, after a couple of tries, he sighs, and tries again. “I guess it’s just that I’m not used to it. So I don’t really know how to respond.”

“Not jumping away is probably a good first step.”

Eddie huffs. “Yes, that much I did know, but it’s not - there’s not that many steps in my brain, it’s not like I have that much time where I’m like, oh, no I’ll stay here, it’s more just - instinctual to move away. Like when I brush against someone on the subway or - I’m just used to leaning away, not in.”

“I - fuck, man, I don’t even have a joke for that, that’s just kind of sad.”

Stiffening, Eddie tries not to tighten his grip on Richie’s arm, instead just pressing ahead, walking quickly back towards the Town House, desperately hoping it comes into view soon. “Yeah, okay, thank you.”

“No, I didn’t - I just mean it makes me sad. Genuinely. It shouldn’t be like that for you-”

“What, like you’re any better?”

“No, man! But that’s my point! You deserve better!”

“That doesn’t even make any fucking sense-”

“I told you I was tired, dude-”

“Just the entire concept that you would - what does that even mean, Richie?”

“I don’t know! I told you I’m just saying shit-”

“Okay well stop, then, stop - stop saying things and let’s just get back to the Town House and sleep and maybe then we can both make some more sense when we speak.”

“Yeah. Okay. Fair. That’s fair.”

For a few moments, they actually do it. Complete and utter silence. Eddie doesn’t know how long they make it, really, just that it feels interminable. Unbearable, in the face of everything else. He does, actually, tighten his grip on Richie’s arm just a little.

“Okay, no, sorry, that was a mistake,” Eddie says. “Terrible idea, I regret it immediately, let’s just talk about literally anything else.”

“Well now I don’t know how to think about anything else-”

“This is not a don’t think about elephants situation, Richie, just think about anything in the fucking world other than - I don’t know, the thing we were talking about, the me thing-”

“You’re making it worse! Literally now all I can think about is how bad I wanna give you a hug-”

“You - what?”

Eddie stops then, so Richie stops with him, pulled up short.

“Uh - sorry was that weird? It’s probably weird. Cause the - we talked about the thing where I may as well be drunk I’m so sleep deprived, right?”

“Just, you - I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.” Eddie admits. He still has his hand on Richie’s arm. He doesn’t know how to take it off now. “We’re still in the middle of the street. We’re almost back to the Town House now, I can see it, let’s just - let’s get you back to your room, okay?”

“Sure. Okay.”

Together, they start walking again, and this time the silence is awkward, but it isn’t quite so oppressive. Maybe it’s mostly that way because Eddie’s still stuck in his own head with Richie’s words, his confession about wanting to hug Eddie playing on loop - and it’s so fucking stupid, he’s an adult man, but it was all he could think about down in the quarry, and it’s all he can think about now, again, with Richie’s arm warm and surprisingly firm under his fingers. How would that arm feel around his shoulders? Around his waist? How would it feel to just have Richie really wrap both arms around him and pull him close? How would it feel to be completely surrounded like that? Would it be as good as he thinks it would be? As good as it is in his head?

They reach the Town House before Eddie thinks to say anything, and then they’re making their way up the steps, and everyone else is pretty obviously already in their rooms, asleep, so it’s just Eddie and Richie standing in the hallway right in front of Richie’s room.

“So this is you, I think, right?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, I uh -” Richie leans in and squints a little, and nods. “Looks right, yeah. Pretty sure I’d recognize my particular hideous wallpaper even in the dark. So I guess that’s - uh. I guess I’m gonna go in here and try to sleep now.”

“Right, yeah,” Eddie agrees. He nods, then realizes he’s still got his hand on Richie’s arm and finally lets go, quickly like he’s been burned. The warmth from Richie’s skin lingers in his palm and his fingers, and he clenches his hand into a fist like he can keep it there. “Right. Sorry. I’ll - go back to my room. With - with all the blood and the torn down shower curtain from where Bowers was in there, great, yes, that’s what I’ll do.”

Eddie turns around, slowly, and starts back towards his own room like it’s some kind of death march. It’s absolutely ridiculous that he feels so strange about a few yards of distance, like he can’t just wake up and see Richie tomorrow, like he hasn’t already agreed to go to Chicago and sleep on Richie’s couch or floor or bed as soon as he can.

“Eds, wait,” Richie says, maybe more loudly than he should since the others are already sleeping.

Turning around, Eddie goes back without even questioning it, making sure he stands close enough for Richie to see his blurry shape at least, and know he’s there. “What?”

“I - uh. God, I don’t know. Sorry.”

“I-” Eddie starts, then stops again. He clears his throat. “Did you mean what you said earlier? About the-”

“I mean the no filter jokes usually mean I’m being truthful, yeah,” Richie replies, but he’s slow and cautious with his words, like he might trip and accidentally say something more than he meant to.

“Uh - okay, so - if now isn’t a good time tell me to fuck off, I guess, but-”

With that, physically incapable of saying anything more without dying from sheer embarrassment, Eddie pushes forward and collides with Richie’s chest, wrapping his arms around Richie’s waist, pressing close and just - staying there.

He’s holding tightly - tighter than he meant to, so he forces his arms to relax, his shoulders to ease down so they’re not so tight. 

His hands are pressed against Richie’s back, but they don’t even come close to covering the breadth of him. It's something that Eddie notices almost casually, but it sticks there in the back of his brain. Richie’s chest is warm, he notices that, too, and it moves slightly as he breathes, in and out, just gently, and Eddie rests his head there, just leaning. Actually leaning, letting Richie hold some of his weight, and even as he forces himself to relax there, he waits for the inevitable shove, the refusal, the laugh, the punchline. He waits for the other shoe to drop.

Instead, Richie just sort of stands there, arms hovering in the air around Eddie, and Eddie can only assume Richie’s looking down at him, but it’s not like he can really see anyways, so it’s fine. And maybe Eddie will just stand here for a moment, holding Richie, and that will be the end of it and - surprisingly, it feels like that might be enough.

“Eds?” Richie asks, quietly.

“You can shove me off if you want,” Eddie tells him.

“No, fuck off, fuck that,” Richie says, with surprising intensity. That, actually, seems to prompt him into motion, and he lets one arm settle around Eddie’s shoulders, and wraps the other carefully around Eddie’s waist, still gentle - so soft there’s barely any pressure, which still isn’t what Eddie had in mind, but there’s something beautiful about being handled like he’s fragile but in this new way where Richie’s still touching him.

When his mother used to call him delicate, it felt like an insult, like something shameful. When Richie touches him like this, it feels more like it means something else. Like Eddie is special, and worth taking care of - worth being gentle with.

Eddie presses his face further against Richie’s chest, hiding there just in case, hiding all the emotion in his expression. “Okay. Good. Great. Thanks, then.”

As long as Richie’s not pushing him away, though, Eddie holds a little tighter, squeezing a little, holding Richie a little closer just because he can. The solid weight of him feels good in Eddie’s arms. It’s comforting in ways he hadn’t even anticipated, just to have Richie there so close, to feel his heartbeat and his breathing and to have the concrete proof he’s alive after everything they’ve been through in the past couple of days.

In a surprising turn of events, the warmth and the pressure of it all is so relaxing that as his breathing lines up with Richie’s, and they both slow down, Eddie finds himself actually getting drowsy - in spite of how wired and anxious he’s been for days. He can feel himself coming down from it all.

The longer they stand there, the more Richie seems to relax, too. His arm across Eddie’s shoulders gets heavier, really settling there, keeping Eddie firmly grounded. He lets his arm rest at Eddie’s waist, too, pressing just a little. He even moves his hand so it’s resting on Eddie’s back, spanning a good portion of his spine, holding him close.

Richie’s hand starts to rub up and down, soothing, and Eddie hums softly and shifts his face against Richie’s chest, turning his head - but doing it indulgently, so he rubs his cheek against the softness of Richie’s t-shirt as he moves.

The arm that was around Eddie’s shoulders moves, too, and then Richie’s arm around his waist is tighter, holding him closer, holding him properly, and Richie’s got a hand on the back of his head instead, sort of cradling Eddie’s skull, keeping him there.

Tired as he is, overwhelmed and emotional, Eddie feels like he might start to cry. Instead, he just hides his face against Richie’s chest again, sort of nuzzling as he goes. He hates to call it that - but there’s not another word for it.

Richie doesn’t even try to pull away. He makes no attempt to move, aside from the way his fingers start to sift through Eddie’s hair, ruffling through it just softly enough that Eddie can feel the motions. Like everything else he’s done, it’s like he starts tentatively then just keeps going - like he’s afraid that Eddie’s going to be the one that pulls back or moves away when Eddie can’t even understand how he’s getting away with this much.

Slowly, encouraged by Richie’s own movements, Eddie moves one of his own hands up to Richie’s shoulder, feeling the bumps of his spine on the way up. He traces his fingers over Richie’s shoulder blade where he can reach it, just following the curve of it, then lands at the muscle near Richie’s shoulder, rubbing slowly, back and forth, feeling the tension there relax.

Eddie wishes, just briefly, that Richie had his glasses, and Eddie could pull back and see him and feel like Richie saw him, too, up close like that. After a moment, though, Richie actually ducks down and rests his head against Eddie’s shoulder - and maybe that’s better.

It can’t be comfortable for more than a moment, but for that one moment, Richie is really wrapped all around him, practically sheltering Eddie in his arms and in the curve of his body, and Eddie feels small and safe and protected and he shivers, just slightly, even though he’s still so warm. Richie rubs at his back again, maybe to warm him up, and Eddie chuckles, quietly.

His voice sounds slow - quiet and deep like maybe they’re both practically drunk now, between just sleep deprivation and touch.

“Rich - Rich I don’t - I’m gonna fall asleep on my feet.”

“Mmf, me, too.” Richie straightens up again, and Eddie can hear his back pop as he does - but Richie just grins, seemingly unbothered. He still has his arms around Eddie. His unfocused smile is still aimed in the general direction of Eddie’s face, and Eddie has all kinds of dangerous urges in that moment.

Instead, he places his hands on Richie’s arms, just below his shoulders, and rucks up the fabric of his t-shirt, pushing so he can get to skin and brush his hands over that instead. “I’m gonna - go to my room and crash. I’ll see you in the morning, okay? And we’ll - I’ll change my flight and we’ll get out of here.”

Richie’s grin turns softer, and he moves his hand through Eddie’s hair again, rucking it up in the back, but Eddie doesn’t even care. “You’re gonna fly back with me? You’re coming straight to my place?”

“I told you I don’t wanna go back.”

“No, yeah, that’s just-” Richie cuts himself off with a laugh. Then he pulls Eddie close again, one short, tight hug that nearly lifts Eddie off the ground. It surprises Eddie into a laugh, too, and he puts his arms back around Richie’s neck, just for a minute. “That’s great, Eds.”

“Okay, good, I’m glad - I’m glad it’s good, I agree, but we have to sleep, Rich.”

“Yeah, yeah, sleep, sleep is-” Richie cuts off again. “You should just crash in my room. Practice for my place. Right? It’s a big bed. I think it might be a King, but it’s a Queen at the very least, plus your room is all - fucked up and probably smells like Bowers-”

“I have to - I’ll have to get into my pajamas, though.”

“Okay,” Richie says softly.

“Okay,” Eddie says back.

Slowly, Eddie steps back, and Richie’s hand lingers on his arm, sliding down to his wrist before finally letting go.

“And you’ll come back?” Richie asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.”

It’s probably the fastest Eddie’s ever changed his clothes and brushed his teeth in his life. He’s too tired, and he’s clumsy, so he stumbles and fumbles through the process, but in the end he makes it back to Richie’s open door and closes it behind him on the way in.

“See? Back.”

Richie’s already in bed, under the covers, and he lifts his head up and squints towards the door. “You sure do look Eds-shaped.”

Eddie laughs at that and goes over to the bed, practically falling into it. It’s warm, under the covers with Richie already under there. It makes all the tension in Eddie’s chest unspool again, and he lays there loose and relaxed, breathing easier in just a minute or two.

Richie reaches out, where he’s laying on his side, and brushes his hand against Eddie’s wrist.

Soon, with both of them shifting, their fingers are tangled together there in between them - and that’s how Eddie falls asleep.

When he wakes up again, he has no idea what time it is. It feels - late, at least, like it’s probably not morning, but the lighting is strange and he’s warm, and he’s not really pressed to reach for his phone or anything right away.

Then he remembers he didn’t even bring his phone to bed, and he opens his eyes, looking around.

Richie’s there, next to him, already awake. He’s watching Eddie, and he still doesn’t have his glasses, but when he sees Eddie is awake, he shifts a little, starting to sit up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up-”

“You didn’t,” Eddie says quietly. He notices, now that he looks out the window, that it’s cloudy outside, not really all the way dark yet. In the dim lighting, he can see Richie’s face, only a little in shadow. He can see that stubble and the mole right by his hairline - all the little distinctive details. “I just - realized I forgot my phone or I probably would have fallen back asleep.” He sits up, too, stretches out his back and turns to face Richie again. “Do we need to go pick up your glasses?”

There’s something strange about the way Richie isn’t looking at him - it’s not just the lack of focus from his glasses being gone - it’s like he’s really trying to avoid looking at Eddie.

Immediately, it sends Eddie into a spiral - his chest gets tight, and his face warms up, and he feels, abruptly, like he’s overstayed his welcome somehow, or like tired, sleep-deprived Richie offered something that now fully aware Richie regrets.

Quickly, Eddie turns and slips out of the bed. “Right, we should, or - I can, if you need me to, so I can - I’ll go and get dressed. Sorry.”

“Sorry?” Richie asks.

Eddie stops, then, awkwardly hovering somewhere between the bed and the door. His tongue suddenly feels too big for his mouth, like he doesn’t remember where to put it. Clumsy. “I, uh - just. I’m sorry. About - I should have asked better yesterday, and I shouldn’t have - assumed you meant - just that you were tired, and maybe I shouldn’t have taken you at face value. I’m sorry, Richie.”

“Sorry for what?” Richie asks properly this time, finally looking at Eddie - but not at all the way that Eddie wanted.

_ That I want too much _ or  _ that I care too much that I feel too much _ doesn’t seem like a valid response. Eddie twists his fingers in the fabric of his own shirt. “Just sorry, I guess. I’ll go and get dressed. If you want to stay here, I can go to the pharmacy.”

“No, no, don’t - I can go.”

There’s something resigned in Richie’s voice. Closed off. Eddie hates it.

“You’re not going alone, not - I can go with you at least.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to, dumbass, that’s not the point! I mean I - someone has to, I don’t want you to get hurt, and you just saved my life yesterday-”

That, more than anything, seems to make Richie shut down completely. “Right. Well you don’t owe me anything else. Especially not - why don’t you just go pack up and go home, huh?”

“Go home?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, to your wife, and your fucking - life and shit, Eddie.”

“I don’t - I thought you said I could stay with you.” Eddie’s voice sounds small, suddenly. He hates it. It’s embarrassing and stupid and - of course Richie didn’t mean it. Of course it was all adrenaline and sleep deprivation and desperation and 20 years of absence. Of course the other shoe had to drop.

“Do whatever you want, Eddie, I don’t - you don’t fucking owe me anything.”

“I wanted to -” Eddie feels, even worse, the burn in the back of his throat that tells him he’s on the verge of tears. He can’t say it. “Never mind. I - I’ll - uh - maybe one of the others will be awake, and you can- I’ll just -”

He gestures helplessly towards the door and starts walking again, turning away to hide his own all-consuming embarrassment.

“You wanted to what?” Richie asks.

Eddie stops. He doesn’t turn around. “I just meant what I said yesterday, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

“You keep apologizing.” It sounds like an accusation.

All Eddie can do in response is shrug, his shoulders raising up, even as he stays tense. “I didn’t - I shouldn’t have said all that. Or done - I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I - Eddie I’m not uncomfortable. You’re the one - jumping out of bed and going to get dressed like we-” Richie stops himself. They both know what he would have said.

It hangs in the air between them.

“It just felt - when I woke up, you wouldn’t - I thought maybe you didn’t mean to ask me to stay. That you - it was just that you got caught up in the moment or something and you regretted it. Like you - you don’t want me to stay with you, and that’s - it’s fine, really it-” Eddie chokes on his words, and Richie, finally, seems to understand what he’s trying to say.

“Oh. Oh, fuck, Eddie, hey.”

In just a few short steps, Richie’s crossed the room, and he catches Eddie by the shoulders - but gently, again, just like last night. There’s barely any weight behind his hands.

Eddie lets himself be turned around, but he still won’t look up at Richie’s face. “I can get a hotel. I don’t have to stay with you. And I can - I can be -” Be normal. Not fuck this up. Not want it too much. He can’t say any of that. “I can keep my hands to myself. I promise.”

“Eds, look at me.”

He tries - but his gaze stays fixed on the carpet. The ugly, filthy, brown carpet.

Richie’s finger comes to rest at his chin, and he tugs Eddie’s face up to make eye contact. “Eddie. Hey. Come on.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m sorry. Hey. Stop it. I’m sorry. I’m the one that should be sorry. I - I freaked out. A little. When I woke up. I never - if I hadn’t been so tired I never would have had the guts to ask you to stay but that doesn’t mean I’m not glad you did. And if you - if you want to stay with me, of course you can. Of course you can. As long as you need to, as long as you want.”

“You’re sure?” Eddie asks.

Richie nods. “Yeah. Absolutely. Whatever you need.”

Eddie nods, too. “Okay. Thank you.” He hesitates, then, with one of Richie’s hands still on his arm. “Is this - can I hug you again?”

That makes Richie’s expression change again - there’s something sad about it, but something Eddie can’t quite parse out, too - especially because he doesn’t have to hug Richie this time - instead, Richie is the one to pull him close, his arms locked tight around Eddie’s shoulders. “Yeah. C’mere.”

They stand there like that, a closer, more desperate version of their hug from last night, for just a few moments.

Then Eddie speaks, without even really fully realizing he knows what he’s going to say. “Rich, I have to say something.”

“What is it?” He moves a little, but Eddie stays right where he is, pressed against Richie’s chest, hiding, just in case.

“When I left Myra - I told her I was gay. Because I am. And I - I realized that because I-” Eddie stops, stumbles. “I have to tell you, because if you don’t want me to stay with you I understand. Because I have - I have feelings for you.”

“Huh?” Richie says.

Stupidly, in that moment, Eddie thinks that he didn’t even realize people could actually make that noise in real life - but Richie does.

Carefully, Eddie pulls back, slipping out of Richie’s embrace. “If it changes things for you, I understand.”

“If it changes-” Richie cuts himself off, his voice breaking, just a little. He sniffs. “Oh God I don’t even have my fucking glasses on and you’re-”

“I’m what?”

“I’m in love with you, Eds, you fucking-”

“You what?”

“I’m in love with you!” Richie tells him, and it’s almost like he really is angry, or annoyed, but he’s still a little teary, and he’s looking right at Eddie, right at the probably blurry shape of him, and Eddie, unable to help himself, laughs a little.

“Really?”

“Yes, really, don’t-”

“I love you, too, Rich.”

“You - what?"

“I said I love you, too, dumbass.” Eddie says again, because he can. Because the words falling from his mouth feels like a massive weight off his chest, like now he feels the way everyone else looked at the quarry - weightless and smiling and like they’d never have another worry in all their life.

“Oh,” Richie says, in that little sniffly voice.

“You come here,” Eddie says, and he reaches up, tugs Richie down by the back of his neck, and kisses him.

They’re both a little damp, a little sniffly and smiling too much, but Eddie can feel Richie’s scruff against his chin, and Richie’s lips are soft and his mouth tastes terrible, and these are all things that Eddie gets to know, gets to find out, gets to check every day for the rest of his foreseeable future.

“Stop, oh God, that was the worst first kiss ever, I can’t even aim, we have to go get my glasses,” Richie says, but he’s starting to laugh, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s temple, pressing his lips there instead.

“Yeah, obviously we do. Dipshit. Come on, let me get dressed.”

“Okay, okay, yeah, fine,” Richie says. He pulls Eddie back again, though, for a kiss to the cheek, then one to his eyelid, which probably wasn’t where he was aiming, but it just makes Eddie giggle, and he tips his own head up and kisses Richie’s chin.

“Come on. Let me go. I’ll be right back.”

“Right back?” Richie asks, just as soft and as vulnerable as it was the night before.

“Right back,” Eddie says softly. He takes Richie’s hand, kisses his wrist, and then goes back to his own room. He only takes a moment, probably, to lean against the door, overwhelmed, before he gets dressed and straightens out his hair in the bathroom mirror.

This time, he doesn’t have to rush in case Richie changes his mind. This time, he can walk back slowly and take Richie’s arm and they’ll walk to the pharmacy and it doesn’t feel like the end of anything - it’s the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhh hey everybody! it's me! i'm back? sort of. i mean i'm writing again and sometimes it will be reddie so. here's a peace offering, let's be friends again, i love you.
> 
> let me know what you thought, and if you want you can also still find me on twitter at @eddykaspbraks.


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